Sherlock spends the entire day at school happier than he usually would be. Everyone notices, but since Sherlock just walks away when they ask why he's so happy, John explains to everyone that his brother is in town.
After lunch, when Sherlock has anatomy, he waits after class to ask his teacher for his progress report.
"Ahh yes," she tells him, "Your dad called."
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "He did?"
"Yes, but I'll be sure to let him know that you came in to get it on your own. So, Mr. Holmes, it looks like you've got a 'C' in my class."
"A 'C'? Is that…good?"
"It's better than where you were a few months ago. Well done. Keep up the good work you've been doing until the end of school and maybe you'll bring it up to a 'B'."
Sherlock half smiles and takes the paper from his teacher. "Great, thank you."
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock says goodbye and leaves.
He practically runs home, leaving John, Declan, and Ellery blocks behind him. He's waving his progress report around, gripping it tightly so it won't fly away. He runs straight into the house and to the kitchen where he can hear Clement and Mycroft talking.
"Here!" Sherlock shouts, slamming the paper on the island and pulling his backpack off.
Clement takes it and examines it, reading all the little notes the teacher left on it. "Well," Clement says, "It's not failing."
Mycroft snatches the paper from his dad. "It's not exceeding."
"Get off it, Myc," Sherlock says. "I'm passing."
Mycroft tosses the paper back onto the island. He looks at Clement. "If it's good enough for you."
"It's not good enough," Clement says to Sherlock. "But…I guess it's enough."
Sherlock smiles widely.
"That's not a good thing, little brother."
"It's good enough for me," Sherlock replies. He asks Clement to sign the paper, then he shoves it carelessly into his bag. Clement kisses Sherlock's head and leaves the kitchen.
Finally, John, Declan, and Ellery walk into the house.
"You know we were all going to the same place, right?" John asks, going to him.
"You all were going too slowly."
John shakes his head, then kisses Sherlock's cheek.
"So," Sherlock says when John pulls away from him. "Case?"
"In time, Sherlock," Mycroft says, languidly sipping his tea.
"I got the thing, I want the case."
John laughs and takes his bag off his shoulders, then he starts taking books out to do homework.
"The thing?"
"The progress report!"
"Sherlock, please speak in full thoughts."
Sherlock sighs, annoyed. "Fine. When can I have it?"
"Have what?"
"The case!"
Mycroft sighs back, more annoyed than Sherlock. "You can have the case tomorrow when I take you to Lestrade's office to talk it over."
"Tomorrow? I have to wait all the way until tomorrow?!"
"Yes," Mycroft says. "Because tonight Dad wants to have dinner with us. Just the two of us, if you don't mind, John."
"Oh," John says, "Sure, no problem."
Sherlock stands protectively next to John.
"Why can't John be there?" he asks.
"Dad wants to talk to us about something private."
Sherlock frowns.
John kisses his cheek. "It's alright, Sherlock. I'm sure my mum wants me home anyway."
Sherlock nods.
"Dinner at six, alright?" Mycroft asks.
Both of the boys nod.
John leaves at 5:30, and at that time Declan and Ellery leave to have dinner with her parents.
Clement takes Sherlock and Mycroft to a nice restaurant further into the city. It's a fancy restaurant where Sherlock has to put on a suit like Mycroft, and Clement makes them both wear ties.
Sherlock pulls at his tie as they sit at their table. "I hate this."
"This is important to Dad."
Sherlock looks over to where Clement is talking to some people seated three tables away.
"What does he need to talk to us about?"
"I do not know, Sherlock. If I knew I'm sure we wouldn't be here, we'd be having pizza at home."
"I wish we were," Sherlock grumbles.
Mycroft reaches over and flicks him in the head.
"Ow!" Sherlock yells, slapping Mycroft in the arm.
Mycroft glares at him, then punches him in the shoulder.
Sherlock is about to reach over to hit back when Clement appears behind them. He grabs both of them by the ear and leans down to whisper to them.
They both squeal and Clement pinches their ears harder.
"Meals here cost over fifty pounds a person, everyone but Sherlock is in a three-piece suit, and I had to call in a favor to get a reservation tonight. If you could be bothered to hold your fighting until I make you walk home, I'd be ever so grateful."
"Okay," Mycroft easily complies.
"Fine," Sherlock says through gritted teeth.
Clement kisses both of their cheeks and lets go of their ears. Then he steps around the table to sit.
Their waiter arrives before they can talk, so they order drinks and then food right away. Clement happily sips the water the waiter brought, and Sherlock and Mycroft both stare at him.
"Are you going to tell us what you brought us here to talk about?" Sherlock asks.
"In time," Clement says.
"How long are we going to have to wait nervously before you tell us?"
Mycroft cuts in. "Speak for yourself, brother," he says. "I'm not nervous."
Sherlock doesn't take his eyes off of his dad. "Yes you are, your left eye has been twitching since we got in the car and your silverware cannot possibly be any straighter."
Mycroft huffs and reaches for his salad fork again.
Clement grins. He leans forward on his elbows on the table.
"What's new, boys?" Clement asks.
Sherlock and Mycroft groan.
"No, no way," Sherlock says. "You didn't bring us here to chat."
"I did. We came to talk."
"We could have talked at home," Sherlock says.
"Surely we could have talked about something so serious at home," Mycroft adds.
Sherlock glances at him. "Serious?"
Mycroft lifts an eyebrow and sips his water.
Sherlock looks around the restaurant. "Ahh, yes. You brought us somewhere in public so we don't lash out when you tell us whatever you need to tell us."
Clement just smiles at them.
"So, something serious," Mycroft repeats. "We know Brook is going to rehab."
"Someone is sick," Sherlock says.
"No," Mycroft disagrees. "We wouldn't be angry upset about that. Father brought us here so we don't get angry because we're in public."
"Angry…" Sherlock repeats. "We're moving?"
"No," Mycroft says. "Dad would have broken that news at home because we would have been sad."
Sherlock frowns. "Then…"
"Either he's met someone or he knows something about Mother's relationship."
Clement smiles at Mycroft and leans back in his chair.
"He met someone," Sherlock says.
"Want to bet?" Mycroft mutters as the waiter arrives with their drinks.
The waiter leaves a few minutes later. Again, Clement sits back to watch his sons deduce why they're at such a fancy restaurant.
"So," Sherlock continues. "I think Dad met someone."
"Think about it, Sherlock," Mycroft says. "Even you would see the signs of Dad seeing someone."
"Even I would?"
"Yes, even you and your thick head would be able to figure out."
"Hey!" Sherlock cries, "I'll have you know—"
Clement stops them. "Boys, boys!"
The boys look at their dad.
"Be nice," he says.
Sherlock and Mycroft frown at their empty salad plates.
"Are you going to go on or should I tell you?"
"I think you're seeing someone," Sherlock says again.
"You would see the signs, Sherlock," Mycroft mutters.
"Not if Dad knew I'd see the signs, so he's taken extra precaution to not get figured out."
Clement still sits silently smiling.
Sherlock and Mycroft bicker quietly until their food arrives. They stop only to start pick at their food, both boys acting interested in their meal, but finally Mycroft drops his fork and stares at Clement. Sherlock follows.
"Tell us," Mycroft says.
"There isn't an easy way to tell you this, boys."
"Then do it quickly."
Clement takes a deep breath. "Your mother is getting married."
"What?!" Sherlock and Mycroft yell in unison.
"My lawyer told me yesterday when he returned her wedding ring to me." Clement takes the simple little ring out of his pocket. It doesn't have a large diamond like most do, it's flat and lined with many little colorful jewels. "It was my mothers, you know that. I gave it to your mother when I asked her to marry me…twenty five years ago, jesus." Clement shakes his head, as if in disbelief. "Myc, your mum wants you to have it."
Mycroft meets Clement halfway to take the ring. "Why me?" he asks.
Clement shrugs. "Mother must not know you're dating Lestrade."
"Yeah, but—"
"You've only dated women until now, son, I don't know Mum must have hope for you to marry a woman."
Mycroft doesn't say anything to that. He just examines the ring in his hand.
Sherlock watches him, feeling a bit sad. His mother obviously didn't think of anything to give him.
"Here, Sherlock," Clement says. "This is for you. From me."
Sherlock reaches over and takes what his dad is giving him.
It's Clement's wedding ring, a simple black band that sparkles in certain light.
Sherlock looks up at his dad. "Really?"
"Yes, of course. I want you to have that one. Do with it what you will. Wear it, give it to John eventually, toss it in your drawer and forget about it if you want."
Sherlock slips it onto his right ring finger. "Are you only giving it to me because you can't bare to look at it anymore?"
"No. It means a lot to me. It signifies my marriage, my love for your mother that I'll always have, and what it brought me. You two. It represents my most prized possession. So, I want you to have it."
Sherlock plays with it. "Thanks, Dad."
Clement smiles at him. "Now," he says, "Eat. Food's getting cold."
The boys both pick at their food some more, Mycroft eating most of his but Sherlock leaving most of his.
They go home right after dinner, where Asher is back from taking Brook to the rehab facility. He and Declan are in the sitting room watching television and talking. Clement joins them, so Sherlock and Mycroft go to the kitchen.
"Are you leaving again?" Sherlock asks while Mycroft makes them both tea.
"Yes. I'll be back to get you in the morning, then we'll go to Lestrade's office."
"Why do you call him Lestrade so often?"
Mycroft grins. "Because it's sexy."
Sherlock makes a face. "Ew."
Mycroft laughs.
"So I'll expect you back at what time?"
Mycroft shrugs. "I'll be back by seven, but you should sleep. You need your rest to take on this case."
"It's a big case?"
"Yes, I think so."
Sherlock smiles.
Mycroft passes him a mug, then they drink it while talking about nothing in particular.
Sherlock goes to bed almost right after Mycroft leaves. He calls John before sleep, to tell John all the news, and John just relays how sorry he is.
Twenty minutes later, they repeat to each other that they love each other over and over before hanging up to go to sleep.